


The drink swapping zone

by nanasekei



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Infidelity, M/M, No Cult Ending, Pre-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:25:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasekei/pseuds/nanasekei
Summary: The sun hit his blonde hair as a few locks fell on his forehead, breaking out from the way he had styled it earlier that morning. His eyes sparkled with that obvious, ridiculous glow of happiness that was so rare to see on him.Robert felt his cheeks hurt. He wasn’t used to smiling that much.





	The drink swapping zone

 

“Here, Rob” His voice came from the upper deck, calm as usual. He was always calm. “Have a taste”.

Robert climbed to the deck, where Joseph was standing in front of a table he had clearly just finished setting. There was a blank towel over it with two glasses. Robert looked down at them. His whiskey glass was filled with a yellow-ish drink with a slice of lemon on the back. Next to it, there was a long, delicate glass filled with that gold beverage he loved so much.

He chuckled.

“No ice?”

Joseph pulled an exaggeratedly shocked face.

“I am man of God, Rob. I would never commit such blasphemy.” He said, his blue eyes staring deeply at Robert’s face. Robert tried to fight back a smile, but failed. He looked away, picking up his glass, but he knew Joseph was grinning back.

He held the glass up against the sun, staring at the lemon with disgust. “And I’m supposed to drink this?”

“That was the plan, yes.” Joseph sat in the chair next to him, tugging at the towel on the table to stretch out some invisible wrinkle. There was always something to fix to him. Sometimes, even watching it made Robert feel tired. He picked up the long glass. “But I won’t hold a gun to your head.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.”

He laughed.

“Come on, just have a sip and tell me what you think. I know it will be tough, but at least you will have the sight of me burning down my insides.” He said, nodding towards the long cup filled with whiskey.

Robert rolled his eyes. “You’ll be finally becoming a complete human being, while I have to drink this poor excuse for a beverage. I don’t see an advantage.”

“I can arrange that later” Joseph said, smiling maliciously. Then he wiggled his eyebrows at him, ruining any kind of mood that sentence could have set up. Robert tried his best to hold back his laughter, but it came out anyway.

Joseph smiled back at him, smug. He loved when he managed to do that.

(It happened a lot).

Robert looked back at the glass on his hand, slightly curious. He was not a fan of cocktails. Sure, he probably had drank a Margarita before (he was pretty sure he had tried every single type of alcohol at some point in his life), but he didn’t really remember what it tasted like.

“Seriously, though. I think even a sip of this might give me some kind of serious allergy.”

“I can assure you that will not happen.” Joseph flashed him his best million-watt smile.

Robert just stared back, serious. It was way easier to be immune to those than it was when he got dorky.

“Fine, fine.” Joseph rolled his eyes playfully. “I can go first.”

He raised the glass filled with whiskey, winking. “To you, my friend.” Then, pulling an exaggeratedly determinate face, he knocked it back.

His face twisted in an immediate sign of pain, but, to Joseph’s credit, he took it well. He placed his hand in his mouth and blinked for a moment. “Damn.” He said, pausing a few seconds to recover. “It burns.”

“That’s the best part.” Robert said. “That’s why you get addicted when you’re just starting. After a while, the feeling is gone, but you just can’t stop. You’ll never get over it. But the sad truth is that it will never be the same again. You’ll search for the taste of that first sip for the rest of your life.” He put his hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “Welcome to alcoholism, buddy.”

Joseph laughed. “You’re ridiculous.” He gestured at the Margarita cup, still on the table. “Come on, it’s your turn.”

Robert looked at the Margarita cup, then back at Joseph’s flushed, grinning face. The sun hit his blonde hair as a few locks fell on his forehead, breaking out from the way he had styled it earlier that morning. His eyes sparkled with that obvious, ridiculous glow of happiness that was so rare to see on him.

Robert felt his cheeks hurt. He wasn’t used to smile that much.

“Fine, I’ll try it.”

He picked up the glass and stared at it with fake confusion. “Should I eat the lemon?”

“No, it’s just for decoration.”

“Well, that’s a problem.” Robert said, still pretending to examine the drink. “The first rule any cooking television show will tell you about is that everything in the plate is meant to be edible. How is the customer supposed to know the poisonous leaves you left right next to the sauce are just decorative? The same should apply to drinks.”

Joseph raised his eyebrows. “Cooking shows? Is your TV only picking up two channels again?”

“Life is made of choices, Joseph. Sometimes a man needs to decide if it’s worth watching the same episode of Pawn Stars for the sixth time or if he should give a chance to the gastronomic side of contemporary reality television. Sometimes these are the only options.”

“Or hiring a repair service.”

“The _only_ options.”

Joseph tried to hold back his laughter, but it failed. Robert smiled to himself. He also loved when he managed to do that.

(It didn’t happen as often as he wanted to.)

 “Eat the lemon if you want to, Rob. I just want your opinion on the drink.”

That was good enough for him. Robert put the glass back on the table. Then he picked up the lemon and took it to his mouth, taking a generous bite of it.

“Sour.” He said.

Joseph chuckled. “You don’t say.”

He took another bite. “The texture is interesting, though.”

“Should I ask the pizza guy if they take in special requests next time?”

“Fuck no. Pineapple is in a whole other level, buddy. Other fruits can aspire to someday become just as tasty, but they never will.” He took the final bite of the lemon. Joseph watched as he ate it deliberately slowly.

“So…”

“So.” Robert said. Joseph was looking at him expectantly, his blue eyes turning towards the table to the Margarita glass he had left untouched.

“So… Will you try the drink?”

Robert crossed his arms. “You know, I’m not a Margarita expert. I can understand where you would have gotten this idea, given my enthusiastic willingness to try out new and fun cocktails, but I don’t usually, you know… Drink them.”

Joseph rolled his eyes. “Robert. During all the time I’ve known you I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink anything other than whiskey. You don’t even give a chance to cocktails. Or beer. Not even water.” He pushed the glass towards him. “And it would mean a lot to me if you would break this pattern just one time and try this Margarita, because I need an opinion on my drink-making skills. Other than my own, obviously.” He paused for a moment. “Also, thinking about it, the water is something you should work on too.”

“Hydration is for losers.”

“It most definitely is not, but I’m not going to argue with you about that.” He crossed his arms, leaning on the table. The movement pushed his shoulders slightly forward. That shirt was a bit tight, making the outline of his arms visible under the pink fabric. Robert felt his mouth go dry.

He licked his lips, looking away. Joseph just kept staring, and Robert could tell he wasn’t going to ask again, but he wasn’t going to drop it, either. He grinned. Joseph was a good guy, and also a fucking asshole, but just a giant prick sometimes. It was as endearing as it could get infuriating.

He moved closer, towards him. Joseph’s body tensed up at the approach, and Robert let his gaze linger on his arms this time. That shirt was way too tight – he knew it and Joseph knew it and that was exactly the reason he wore it all the time, just to mess with him. It worked.

They were in front of each other now. Robert looked at his face. He was so close – his blonde hair on his forehead, his skin flushed from their short time at the sun.

(He could kiss him. Right there, in the middle of the day. They were far enough from the shore. Hell, they could fuck right there in the deck if they wanted to. In the open ocean, he could drown in Joseph’s body just like others drowned in the water.

He’d run out of air either way. Same difference.)

Joseph was the first one to move, closing the distance between them. There was a smile on the corner of his lips. He moved his hand to touch Robert’s face.

With a quick movement, Robert turned towards the table again, grabbed the Margarita glass and knocked it back.

Joseph stared at him in a stunned silence, processing what had happened.

(It was easy to drink it all at once. It tasted sweet, with a little citric sourness.

He knew that taste. He knew it way too well.)

Joseph leaned forward. “…So?”

“It’s…” He took another sip, aware of Joseph’s eyes watching his mouth as he drank it. “Not bad.”

“Oh.” Joseph laughed. He leaned closer, his voice soft. “Just that? “Not bad?”

“Yeah.” Robert said, putting the glass back on the table. “I guess all Margaritas taste the same.” He turned towards Joseph again, trying to remain straight-faced.

(The taste lingered on his mouth. It tasted sweet and citric and sour.)

“Well, I suppose that’s better than nothing.” Joseph whispered, his face now so close Robert could smell his breath. He tried not to smile, but it was a lost battle.

(It tasted sweet and citric and sour and cold. It tasted like warm skin and a dorky smile and so many lies and so many excuses and a kind of fucked-up almost as bad as his own. It tasted like the open sea and a soft mouth and an imaginary isolated island where no one knew their names. It tasted like a drink he wouldn’t immediately think of ordering, but against all odds, it would end up becoming his favorite.)

“It is” Robert said, and Joseph chuckled slightly, pressing his lips against his.

 


End file.
